


Black Box

by tanks4thememory



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanks4thememory/pseuds/tanks4thememory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Jaeger Space Paranoids, though its pilots survived and it defeated its last kaiju, has been reduced to so much high-tech scrap. Flynn and Alan try to find out what happened.</p>
<p>(Yet another part of the Great Tron <strike>Kaiju</strike> Hivemind collection of Pacific Grid works.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Box

“Wow, Paranoids is a wreck,” Alan commented, looking up at the massive remains of the aforementioned Jaeger. And ‘remains’ was about the only way to describe the once mighty mechanical titan. If Alan hadn’t known for a fact that it was Space Paranoids, he would never have been able to identify it.

 

“No, he’s not a wreck,” Flynn commented, leaning back in his chair tiredly, closing his eyes for a moment and rubbing the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache.  “A wreck we could handle. A wreck we might be able to repair. This?” He gestured to what was left of the huge machine. “This is a vaguely Jaeger-shaped pile of scrap-metal.”

 

“I mean, look at this,” he said, indicating the diagnostics he’d been studying. “There’s almost nothing left that hasn’t sustained serious damage. Power systems fried, hydraulics completely FUBARed, weapons mangled beyond recognition, 79% of his armor destroyed, half of _that_ outright missing, 80% of motor-servos damaged or fused, engine core a pile of melted slag… We seriously can’t even use him for _parts_. There’s not enough left that works.”

 

“The pilots are alright, though?” Alan asked. He hadn’t _heard_ about any casualties, but he hadn’t been there when Paranoids had been brought in; Flynn had.

 

Flynn nodded with a sigh. “Battered, bruised, and beaten, but still in one piece, yeah,” he said. “Med team had to cut Henderson out of his harness, though; no power, and the manual release was jammed.”

 

“What I can’t figure out,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face, “is how they survived at all. With this much damage, Paranoids should hardly have been able to _move_ , let alone fight. But he kept on going right til the end of the fight, and they beat that overgrown fang-factory, if only by the skin of their teeth. Literally, in fact; they ripped its throat out with one of its own fangs to finally kill it. Then, about ten seconds later, Paranoids just… keeled over onto the beach. Pilots said they had no idea how extensive the damage was until everything just seemed to fail all at once.”

 

“Have they found the black box yet?” Alan asked, leaning in to study the holographic display over Flynn’s shoulder. At least 90% of the 3D schematic model was lit up in red, indicating damage, casting Flynn’s uncharacteristically serious features in a somewhat eerie glow.

 

“They’re pulling it out now, yeah,” Flynn said, indicating several techs that could be seen climbing around on what was left of Space Paranoids with a vague tilt of his head in their direction.

 

“Then hopefully,” Alan said, “you’ll have your answers shortly.”

 

Flynn nodded without taking his eyes off the display, stroking the 5-o’clock shadow on his chin and frowning thoughtfully. “What happened out there…?” he muttered softly to the readouts, seeming to have momentarily forgotten Alan was there. The display remained as silent as ever.

 

***************************************

 

The black box, contrary to its name, was in fact bright, day-glow orange so as to be easily located amid the wreckage. About the size of a large shoe box, it was designed to be damn near indestructible, and seemed to be one of the few parts of Space Paranoids that hadn’t been rendered so much high-tech junk.

 

Alan watched as Flynn hooked up the flight recorder to the console so that they could retrieve the data. Cockpit conversation, comms chatter, sensor data both internal and external, onboard AI activity, pilot life signs, Drift integrity, and pretty much any other data that might be useful was pulled from the singed oblong (even it hadn’t escaped entirely unscathed) and funneled into a console where they could sift through it and hopefully find out what happened.

 

“OK,” Flynn said as he unhooked the link cable. “That’s all of it. Now, let’s see what we can see, here…”

 

Alan nodded and sat down in a chair beside Flynn. Two heads were better than one when looking through this much data. They skipped the comms chatter for now; that was stuff they already knew. Instead they focused on sensor readouts and system data, as that seemed like a good place to start…

 

***********************************

 

TIME:  18:35 PACIFIC

JAEGER DESIGNATION: SPACE PARANOIDS

PILOT:  HENDERSON, JOHN

COPILOT: CROM, PETER

TARGET CLASSIFICATION: CATEGORY 3

CODENAME: SABERTOOTH

TARGET ALREADY PAST 10 MILE MARKER. 8 MILES OUT AND CLOSING. MOVING TO INTERCEPT.

TARGET 6 MILES OUT AND CLOSING. ESTIMATED TIME TO INTERCEPT: 8 MINUTES, 35.8 SECONDS.

TARGET 4 MILES OUT AND CLOSING. ESTIMATED TIME TO INTERCEPT:  3 MINUTES, 16.2 SECONDS.

TARGET 2 MILES OUT AND CLOSING. TARGET DEVIATING FROM PREDICTED TRAJECTORY. CALCULATING NEW INTERCEPT VECTOR… ESTIMATED TIME TO INTERCEPT: 1 MINUTE, 45.3 SECONDS.

TARGET 1 MILE OUT AND CLOSING. VISUAL ACQUIRED. ESTIMATED TIME TO INTERCEPT: 29.9 SECONDS.

TARGET INTERCEPTED AND ENGAGED.

PILOT DRIFT STEADY AND HOLDING.

WEAPONS ONLINE. MAIN CANNON CHARGING.

ANTI-KAIJU MISSILES LOCKED. FIRING.

7 HITS CONFIRMED. 1 HIT PROBABLE.

TARGET CLOSING.

MAIN CANNON REA-

ERROR! MAIN CANNON DISABLED, RECALIBRATING FOR CLOSE RANGE.

MAIN CANNON DESTROYED. LEFT ELBOW JOINT 30% DAMAGE, LEFT FOREARM 40% DAMAGE. LEFT SIDE MISSILE LAUNCHERS DISABLED, POWER BEING REROUTED FROM SECTOR L54 TO L57 AND L60.

POWER SUCCESFULLY REROUTED, PREPARING TO-

IMPACT DAMAGE TO RIGHT LEG. KNEEJOINT FUNCTION REDUCED TO 78% OF OPTIMAL…

 

**********************************************

 

And so it went, a blow-by-blow description of the fight as recorded by Space Paranoids’ onboard sensors. “Seems pretty standard so far,” Alan commented. “I don’t see- wait…”

As the report continued to scroll by, the sensor readings that had been recorded began to become scrambled. But it couldn’t all be accounted for by the punishment Sabertooth had been dealing to Paranoids. “The readouts must have been damaged at some point,” Alan said. “Half the damage reports weren’t getting through. And why was power rerouted that way? That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“I dunno,” Flynn said. “But at least that explains why so many of systems were fused and fried; if the damage reports weren’t getting through, the damage wouldn’t have registered and the components wouldn’t have shut down. They were pushed so far past tolerance that in the end they basically just melted and collapsed from the strain.”

 

“Yeah, but _why_ weren’t the messages getting through?” Alan asked. “Shouldn’t Clu have been coordinating? And that still doesn’t explain what’s with those weird power transfers.”

 

“Hmm…” Flynn said. “Bring up the AI activity log. See if Clu’s perspective clears anything up.”

 

“Right,” Alan replied, suiting actions to words as he brought up the data.

 

Like the sensor data, Clu’s running commentary seemed pretty standard at first, comments on the fight ‘ _Nice one, Copilot Crom! … Pilot Henderson, watch out!’_ mingling with more standard system operations. Until…

 

‘ _Offline… offline... offline… Sabertooth is too much! We’re not going to… NO! Stabilizing Drift integrity. Hang on, guys. Just hang on. Rerouting power. Stabilize dammit, stabilize! Drift steady, good. Power transfer holding, but it won’t for long. Dammit-dammit-dammit! There’s got to be SOMETHING…! Agh! No! No, I’m not going to let this happen. I’m not! I can’t! We can do this! We just need more time!  …Time…’_

 

The running commentary then trailed off into a seemingly endless string of rapid-fire commands, scrolling by too fast for any human to keep up with. Only by slowing them down significantly were Flynn and Alan able to make heads or tails of them, and when they did, both of their eyes went wide.

 

“Holy-! Flynn, are you seeing this?” Alan exclaimed.

 

“Yeah…” Flynn said as he stared intently at the display, mouth slightly agape. “Alan, he… Clu was…”

 

“Clu was blocking the damage signals,” Alan finished, though he was no less flabbergasted. “And the reason the power reroutes read so strangely was because he was doing them too fast for the sensors to keep up. Flynn… how? Is this some kind of failsafe you programmed in or something?”

 

Flynn shook his head.  “Nah, man, I didn’t write him to do this,” he said. “Just to do what any other AI is supposed to do; smooth out and optimize the connection between the pilots and machine so that they can do their jobs. I guess… Clu just came up with his own interpretation of what that meant.” Flynn scrubbed a hand over his chin, frowning intently as he watched the readouts. “Fuck, Alan, the little guy held that Jaeger together practically through sheer force of _will_ …”

 

“Flynn,” Alan said, “you do know that’s a computer program you’re talking about, right? Code and data, zeroes and ones. You really think they can have a ‘will’?”

 

“I dunno, man,” Flynn commented with a sigh. “Sometimes I wonder… I mean, if we could really get in there, down to the level of code and data, I wonder sometimes if we wouldn’t find something that looked a lot like us…” Flynn glanced up and saw the look Alan was giving him, actually breaking into a chuckle at his friend’s expression, some of the seriousness leaving his features.

 

Alan shook his head and sighed. “I’m never going to understand what goes on in your head, Flynn,” he said before turning back to the readouts.

 

“Anyway,” Alan continued, getting back to the matter at hand, “whatever Clu did, and however he did it, the process load was too much for him. That’s why everything seemed to cut out all at once; as soon as the job was done, Clu shut down, and without him blocking the damage signals, everything else did too. Last reports before power was lost have him still there, just inactive and pretty seriously corrupted.”

 

“Seriously, but not irreparably,” Flynn said thoughtfully.

 

“No,” Alan agreed. “Though it’d take a lot of work to get him back into fighting shape. And a lot of time.” He paused. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

 

Flynn nodded. “Paranoids might be destined for the scrap heap, but Clu deserves better than that,” Flynn said. “He basically saved those pilots’ lives, and who knows how many others. He didn’t give up, even when it almost meant the digital equivalent of suicide, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna just give up on him.”

 

Alan nodded. Despite some of Flynn’s… odder notions about the AIs they worked with, when the man was right, he was right. They couldn’t just consign Clu to digital oblivion. Not after a stunt like that.

 

“I’ll get the transfer line and an unused storage drive,” Alan said. “You… you try and explain to Clu what’s going to happen to him.”

 

************************************

 

It took quite awhile for Clu to be aware of the other presence. Everything seemed to be moving in a surreal kind of pixelated slow motion. It took still longer to manage a response. “ _…Flynn…?_ ”

 

“Yeah, Clu, it’s me,” came Flynn’s reply. “Listen, Clu. We’re going to have to pull you out of the Jaeger for awhile, so we can get you fixed up. We’re transferring you to a storage drive for now, where you’ll be safe.”

 

That sounded fine to Clu. He could barely manage the cycles to think at the moment anyway, let alone perform his functions. Clearly he was in need of repair. That last bit reminded him of something, though. “… _Pilots…? …Target…?”_

 

“Henderson and Crom’ll be fine. And Sabertooth was taken out. Thanks to you. Ya did good, little guy. Now just take it easy; you’ve earned some rest.”

 

“ _…OK, Flynn…”_ And with an electronic sigh, Clu faded back into hibernation.

 

*********************************

 

“There,” Alan said, “transfer complete.” He unhooked the cable and began to roll it back up into a small coil while Flynn picked up the unassuming, black storage drive that now held Clu’s dormant programing.

 

“Still can’t quite believe he pulled something like that off,” Flynn said, a bit of an amazed smile on his face, absently running his free hand over the drive’s black plastic casing almost as if petting a cat.

 

“Well, he is _your_ program,” Alan pointed out. “’Stubborn’ is probably written into every line of his code.”

 

Flynn chuckled.  “Heh, yeah,” he said. “Dogged and relentless. Little guy’s a chip off the old block, alright.”

 

“Anyhow,” Alan said, “nothing more we can do here tonight.” He patted Flynn on the shoulder and gestured with the hand holding the coil of cable. “C’mon. Let’s get this all secured, then get something to eat. Give you a chance to meet some of the new transfers. There’s one in particular I think you’ll like; she’s more into architecture than programming, but I think you’ll work well together.”

 

“That so, hmm? What’s her name?” Flynn asked.

 

“Canas, I think,” Alan replied. “Jordan Canas.”

 

“Jordan Canas, huh?” Flynn asked, a bit of his usual mischievous grin crossing his face. “So, what’s she look like, if you got a good look at her? Is she pretty?”

 

“I fail to see what that has to do with anything,” Alan said, falling back into his own usual pattern of fond exasperation with his friend’s antics.

 

“Hey, I’m just asking,” Flynn said. “I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right?”

 

Alan shook his head with a deliberately theatrical sigh. “Come on, Flynn,” he said. “The sooner we get to the mess hall, the sooner you can find out for yourself.” Flynn just laughed as the repair bay doors closed behind them.


End file.
